


How To Scrap Battledroids

by meridianpony



Series: Meridian's Clone Wars One-shots [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Gen, Skillshare, Sort of? - Freeform, also sort of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianpony/pseuds/meridianpony
Summary: From a prompt: ...basically Anakin and The Boys make a skillshare about how to scrap battledroids but about halfway through Tup makes a hair routine class, then other troopers post their hobbies and basically thats how they win the public over to support the clones.
Series: Meridian's Clone Wars One-shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777519
Comments: 38
Kudos: 964
Collections: Fun/Humour/Crack in a Galaxy Far Far Away





	How To Scrap Battledroids

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know what skillshare was until I got this prompt.... I have no idea how. Anyway, this ended up being less 'skillshare' and more 'straight up youtube', but oh well. 
> 
> I suck at writing funny stuff on purpose, so this isn't like... hilarious. But I amused myself writing it anyway. Also, this is barely edited and I wrote it really really fast so ehhh. But it's fine.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the first instalment of ‘Reasons Why the 501st is the Best Battalion in the GAR’, subtitled ‘How To Scrap Battledroids’, sponsored by the Hero With No Fear himself, General Anakin Skywalker!”

General Skywalker steps into frame with a cocky smirk. The camera trails from his face down his arm to where he’s holding his lightsaber with a sure grip. 

“Today we’ll be demonstrating some of the most effective ways to absolutely demolish the B1 battle droid,” the narrator continues. The camera turns slowly, revealing several clones all around the Jedi, armed to the teeth and waiting. “The B1 battle droid, also referred to as a standard battle droid or a clanker, is the most widely used battle droid manufactured by Baktoid Combat Automata and Baktoid Armor Workshop. They’re the successor to the OOM-series battle droids. Early versions of the model required the use of a—”

“Holy _kriff_ no one cares, Echo!” one of the clones says loudly. The narrator lets out an offended huff. The camera jerks and spins so that General Skywalker comes back into frame. The Jedi looks amused.

“ _Some_ of our viewers might appreciate a little background, Fives, shut up!”

“Force, can we get to it already? All this waiting around is driving me crazy!”

“Hardcase, calm down, exposition is important—”

“So is getting my weekly dose of adrenaline, Jesse—!”

“Okay, alright,” another clone soothes. “General, we’re waiting for your signal.”

“Thank you, Tup,” General Skywalker says, and ignites his lightsaber. “For that, I think you deserve the honor of going first.” This spurs a cacophony of groans from the others, but Tup makes a delighted sound. “Alright, on my signal. Echo, you’re in charge of making sure it all gets on camera, understand?”

“Yessir,” Echo says smartly. He pivots so that the entire group is visible—one Jedi and four clones, tense and waiting behind some sort of structure. 

“Alright, let’s go!” General Skywalker shouts, and they charge around the corner and take the platoon of battle droids that had been approaching by complete surprise. 

It’s possibly the most unfair fight the GAR has ever seen. It’s impossible for Echo to keep up with all the action. Hardcase’s Z-6 whines as it tears the droids apart. Tup and Jesse are dodging enemy blaster bolts and returning fire with fluid ease. General Skywalker is a storm of blue light and sparking clanker parts. At one point the Jedi reaches out his hand and sends Fives and Tup flying through the air with the Force so that they can attack from above. 

The fight is over in less than two minutes. It had been pure chaos, and utter destruction. The clones regroup around Echo, riled up and excited as General Skywalker comes within earshot of the camera again.

“And _that,”_ General Skywalker says, sheathing his lightsaber with a flourish, “is how to take down a battle droid, 501st style. It doesn’t get any better than that.”

* * *

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ve constantly been wondering, _“Boy, who could possibly be better than those 501st imbeciles that showed up on the holonet a few weeks ago?”_ like I have recently, look no further! What takes six of the 501st’s best only takes _two_ of the 212th!” 

“Boil, less talking, more not-dying!” someone shouts, and there’s a large explosion. The camera shakes uncontrollably for a moment, and then suddenly it steadies, half of the camera obscured by the rock that the cameraman is crouched behind. Regardless, General Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody are visible, back to back in the middle of a courtyard absolutely _swarming_ with droids. 

“Kenobi deflects blasterbolts from every side, and _oh_ there’s the Commander, headshots, every one of ‘em, look at the way they kriffin’ _move!_ So in-sync, they turn together, no hesitation at all—!”

“Boil, quit the commentary and _get down!”_

There’s another explosion. Boil lets out a grunt of annoyance. The camera whirls. 

“Come _on,_ I’m missing the best part!” There’s a flash of orange and white, and then Boil gets the camera back up. The droids are attempting to close in on the two combatants, but General Kenobi slashes and whirls with ethereal grace. Commander Cody lashes out with powerful kicks that shatter the droids at the joints. They’re absolutely surrounded by sparking droid parts, untouched in their little circle of safety. When there are only a few droids left, General Kenobi slashes his last opponent cleanly in half before tossing his lightsaber _oh-so-casually_ to Commander Cody. The Commander catches it out of midair without even glancing at it and beheads the very last droid with a lazy flick of his wrist. 

Boil whistles, long and low. He’s not the only one. 

“And _that’s_ how to destroy a battle droid, 212th style,” Boil whispers gleefully as General Kenobi and Commander Cody motion for their troops to advance. “And it _really_ doesn’t get any better than that. Suck it, 501st!”

* * *

Captain Rex looks _extremely_ annoyed. 

“Since the 212th really seems to think the _galaxy_ of themselves, this is Captain Rex of the 501st, and I’m here to show you all what it _really_ means to destroy a battle droid.”

Behind the camera, someone giggles. Commander Tano’s hand appears in the frame as she gives him a thumbs up. He shoves his helmet on and draws both DC-17s, checking them over briefly before stepping out of cover directly in front of the platoon of battle droids, determined and completely alone. He charges, pistols already releasing a steady hailfire at his opponents. 

The battle droids don’t even stand a chance. They scream and cower and attempt to escape, but it doesn’t do them any good. Commander Tano laughs so hard that the camera shakes in her hand. 

* * *

“You know, I think that normal B1 battle droids are getting pretty old,” Commander Cody says, smirking at the camera—there’s something a bit dangerous in the expression, almost predatory. Daring their next challenger to try and top them. “So this time we’re upping our game. Super Battle Droids aren’t nearly as easy to take down as B1s, which means we have to get a bit _creative.”_

By ‘ _get creative’,_ Commander Cody means ‘ _use lots of explosives’._ It’s very impressive.

* * *

“Oh kriffing—are you _serious,_ General?” Commander Bly makes an unamused face at the camera.

“Of course, Commander. We can’t let the 501st and the 212th have all the fun, can we?” General Secura says in amusement, the tip of one blue lek sliding into frame for an instant. “Besides, we’ve got something much better than battle droids to destroy today, don’t we?”

Bly snorts.

“The Armored Assault Tank does take a significantly larger amount of effort than any battle droid can. So are we skipping droidekas, then? I don’t think anyone’s done them yet. They seem like a more logical next step up from SBDs to me.”

“Someone else can do that,” another clone chimes in, sounding a bit excited. “Go big or go home, right General?”

“Very good,” General Secura praises. She sounds pleased. “Trooper, please explain the weak spots of the tank to our audience as Commander Bly and I take care of those two on the ridge. It shouldn’t take us long. It’s a bit far—you might have to zoom in, but it should still be plenty visible.”

“Yes sir,” a trooper agrees happily as she passes him the camera. “Don’t worry, sir. I’m sure this’ll blow the rest of the videos completely out of the water.”

General Secura grins at her Commander. She shrugs one shoulder at him and pulls her lightsaber from her belt as she turns to face the tanks. Bly’s expression softens into something that definitely isn’t meant to be seen by the camera. Then he shoves on his helmet and raises his weapon to stand at her side.

“Alright, General. Lead the way.”

* * *

“You know, these videos aren’t _just_ to show people how easy the Seppie droids are to blow up,” Tup says with a shrug. “You can do other stuff too. Dogma, the comb please!”

Dogma dutifully passes him the comb. Tup releases his hair from the bun. It falls down around his face, far nicer than it should considering the amount of time it spends mashed underneath Tup’s bucket. Tup begins to run the comb through his hair, grimacing slightly as he carefully works out knots.

“Alright, everyone is always asking me how I keep my hair so well-maintained with the GAR’s very limited hair products. Today I’m gonna let everyone in on a couple of my most prized secrets…”

* * *

“I _absolutely will not.”_

“But sir,” Comet says (his voice trembles because he’s trying to keep from laughing), “You’re the best at it! The rest of us don’t even come _close!”_ He moves the camera a little closer to Wolffe’s face.

“I don’t give a kriff,” Wolffe deadpans. He goes back to scrolling through his datapad. Comet swipes it from his hand and passes it to Sinker as Wolffe lunges for it, who passes it back to Boost, who tucks it behind his back. Wolffe levels a ferocious glare at them. All three of them cower for a moment until Comet finds his voice again.

“Siiiirrrrr. Sir, please.”

“No.”

“Then you’re not getting your datapad back,” Boost attempts bravely. Wolffe rolls his eye. 

“What’s stopping me from just _taking it_ from you, Sergeant?” he counters. Boost licks his lips nervously.

“I mean, it would still be just as good of a video if you did,” Sinker says, snickering. “How To Discipline your Unruly Sergeant.”

“Just once, sir!” Comet begs, focused on their original goal. “We’ll stop bothering you if you do!”

“For how long?” Wolffe asks gruffly. Comet considers. 

“Until the next deployment, sir?”

Wolffe sighs.

“Fine. But only once.”

He tips his head back and lets out a long, inhuman _howl._ It’s wild and fierce and absolutely terrifying. It calls warriors to the hunt, triggers something carnal in the blood of the pack. The sound echoes through the room. In the corner of the frame, Sinker bares his teeth in response. The reaction is seemingly instinctive. 

When it finally ends, Wolffe drops his chin and lifts one eyebrow at his audience. 

“Satisfied?” he huffs. Boost passes him back his datapad with a dazed grin.

“ _Sithspit_ , sir. That was… better than usual. Trying to… impress someone, maybe?”

“Get out of my office,” Wolffe growls, on the defensive. “Get that camera out of my face, or I’ll have you running laps in the gym until your brains melt out of your skulls.”

“But _sir!_ Now you have to explain how you did it! That’s what these videos are technically for after all!”

Wolffe loses his patience. He _lunges._ The camera gets swung around until everything is a blur. There’s a flash of grey, a hint of white, a snarl. Comet lets out an embarrassing shriek. The video cuts to black a moment later.

* * *

General Windu is weaponless and surrounded, but that doesn’t stop him from utterly decimating every clone that gets within five feet of him. No one can even touch him. He dodges their attacks like he already knows their every move. He probably does. He flows and shifts like water around their attempts to take him down, even when they team up and pull out all the stops. Commander Ponds, hands steady as he films, chuckles mercilessly whenever General Windu successfully tosses someone aside. 

“There’s not really anything to explain here, we just wanted to demonstrate how cool our Jedi is. Mace can take on half the battalion bare handed and he barely even breaks a sweat.”

“Commander, are you actually going to help us or are you just going to sit there and watch us suffer?” a shiny yelps, two seconds before he gets his feet swept out from under him and goes down with a curse. Ponds laughs again. 

“No thanks, kid. I learned the hard way that what you’re trying to do is impossible.”

“Maybe you just never tried hard enough, sir,” Stak grits out, shoving the staggering shiny towards the edge of the mat. He charges Windu head on. It looks foolish until Ponds spots Razor coming in from behind the Jedi. He’s moving as silently as possible. Ponds shifts the camera accordingly so that all three of them are in frame. 

For half a second, it looks like General Windu won’t be able to block both of them.

Well, it _appears_ that way. General Windu ducks low, twists so that he gets right into Stak’s personal space. Stak tries to grab him, but General Windu just uses his momentum to whirl him around and send him crashing into Razor. Their helmets clunk together with a hollow sound. They go down hard.

The onlookers cheer in excitement. General Windu has the smallest of smirks on his face as he settles back into a fighting stance and waits for the rest of the clones to make a move. 

“And that’s why our Jedi is the best,” Ponds says smugly. The next ten minutes of the video is General Windu successfully incapacitating the rest of his challengers. 

(The video is well-received by the general public but poorly received by the rest of the GAR.)

(“Respectfully, the 212th would like to submit this video to demonstrate why General _Kenobi_ is actually the best—”)

("The entire 91st can go kriff themselves, watch General Skywalker hijack these STAPs in midair and you’ll _know_ that the 501st obviously has the best Jedi—”)

(“The 327th resents everything that the 91st’s most recent video claimed and declares that Ponds has no kriffing idea what he’s talking about, General Secura is _obviously_ a better choice, here are ten reasons why—”)

(“General Plo Koon can _fight in space._ I don’t see General Windu doing that, here are the clips from the 104th’s most recent zero-grav drills—”)

* * *

When Commander Fox steps into the room, the men have the decency to look sheepish. Fox takes everything in slowly—the camera in Byte’s hand, the way Thorn and Thire are standing together shoulder to shoulder, hiding the failed project behind them, the scattered nuts and bolts all over the floor. The multitool in Stone’s hand. He drags one hand down his face and takes a deep breath. 

“You told me it was an _emergency,_ Thorn.”

“It _is_ an emergency, Fox! Listen, we even brought you caf because we knew you’d be annoyed,” he holds the steaming cup up as he speaks in a desperate attempt to make peace, “and there’s no way we’re going to figure this out ourselves!”

Fox plucks the caf out of Thorn’s hand and sighs again.

“What is it, then?”

“Well…” Thire drawls slowly. Fox narrows his eyes impatiently. 

“What the kriff is so important and difficult that _three_ of my fellow officers couldn’t figure it out on their own?”

“To be fair, sir,” Stone says good-naturedly, “it’s far more difficult than we thought it would be.”

Thire and Thorn step away to reveal… a piece of furniture. A bench, only halfway assembled, innocent looking enough. Fox stares at it blankly for a few moments. Byte zooms in on his face enthusiastically. 

“We were _going_ to demonstrate how to make it, for the video thing that half the GAR seems to be doing right now,” Thorn explains weakly. “But… it’s confusing. There’s even instructions but they don’t really help.”

Fox drains the cup of caf. He squares his shoulders. 

“Force save me. Are you _kidding?_ Give me the kriffing instructions. This is ridiculous.”

(It takes them two more hours to get the bench set up. Fox misses a meeting. Byte edits the final video to include the bulk of the angry tirades and _all_ of the snark. Public relations improve to an all-time high almost overnight.)

* * *

(“The clones are not _people._ They are soldiers created for a single purpose, _”_ some of the Senate attempt to protest. This argument does not last long, mostly because the civilians who have been eagerly following the videos that the clones have been releasing over the course of several months start to riot in protest. 

Padme Amidala and Bail Organa take great pleasure in bringing the videos before the Senate to prove to them that the clones are indeed soldiers but also individuals who laugh and cry and live just as any other citizen of the Republic does.

In the wake of the unshakable evidence and the rioting, there is little the opposition can do to stop the Clone Rights Bill from being passed, and the entire Republic celebrates.)


End file.
